


casting aside the shadows

by forseti



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:42:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forseti/pseuds/forseti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrom wakes from a familiar nightmare. He’s not alone in dealing with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	casting aside the shadows

The spot beside him is empty when he wakes. For a moment, a familiar panic seizes him—she’s gone, he watched her fade in the dimming light of evening as Grima’s body fell to the earth—but then he hears the flutter of paper, the scratch of a quill, and he calms.

“Chrom?” Robin’s voice is quiet, a little hoarse from sleep. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says, sitting up. She’s sitting at the vanity, one hand poised above a piece of parchment. He raises an eyebrow. “Come up with a new battle strategy?”

She ducks her head, hair hiding her abashed expression. “Perhaps. I know there’s no sign of war on the horizon but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. I couldn’t get back to sleep when it came to me.”

“I know. Old habits die hard.”

She taps the feather end of the quill against her chin, regarding him through dark eyes. “It’s still early. Was it another nightmare?”

“What? No, why would—” He glances at the window; the curtains are still drawn, but he can see that the sky is still dark. He inhales, noting how shaky it sounds. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, getting up and coming over. The bed dips as she sits down across from him, laying a hand on his arm. “You can tell me anything.”

He gives her a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know.”

“Is it about Grima?” she asks. There’s no dodging around this particular topic for Robin—at first, after her return, she’d been evasive, changing the subject whenever her disappearance came up. Now she’s grown to accept it, if reluctantly. She doesn’t talk about her disappearance much, if at all. Chrom still doesn’t know what happened after she faded away right in front of him. He never asks; he can wait for that answer, if it ever comes.

“Yes. No. Maybe?”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Make up your mind, silly.”

“I still think about it,” he sighs after a moment of hesitation. “After you…left—” He does not say _dies_ ; refuses to. “I kept thinking, ‘if only I’d been quicker, or stronger, it wouldn’t have happened. She’d still be here with us.’”

“And subjugate future generations to the possibility of Grima returning?”

“I didn’t say I was thinking clearly.”

“I know.”

There’s a pause. “Did you think of Emmeryn?”

He runs a hand down his face, skin dragging across day-old stubble. He turns as he feels her grip on his arm tighten. “I’d lost someone I loved before—watched her die right in front of me. How could I let it happen again? Especially knowing there’s a child waiting back at the castle for both her parents to come home.”

Robin doesn’t flinch but he sees the flash in her eyes—remembers seeing it several years ago, on the eve of battle.

_Guilt._

“It wasn’t an easy decision,” she says, nearly whispering. “I wrestled with it all the way across Ylisse, on our way back from Mount Prism.” She pauses, tilting her head to look at him. “Do you know who came to me a few nights before we reached Origin Peak?”

“Who?”

“Morgan.”

“Really?”

Robin nods, trailing her fingers down his back. “Mm. He seemed to sense that I was mulling over something rather serious—”

“You’re rather obvious when you’re lost in thought—pacing around and muttering under your breath,” Chrom interjects and Robin scrunches her nose at him.

“I suppose I am,” she admits. “But that night—it was different. I knew without Naga saying it that there was another way to end Grima. I knew it had something to do with me.”

Chrom is silent.

Robin’s voice wavers; it’s like a thread about to snap. “Morgan came in, asking if I had a moment. I was just thinking over it all and said yes, distracted as I was. He stood there and looked at me—you should have seen the look on his face—and said, ‘Mother, whatever you decide I’ll always love you. I want you to know that.’”

“Robin…”

“He went on, ‘I’m sure Lucy and father will too. Father might not take it well but he’ll come to understand.’”

Chrom leans forward, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Robin’s hand moves from his back to his head, running her fingers through his hair.

“He knew,” Chrom says.

“In a way. I don’t think he fully understood but yes. He knew.”

“How did he…” There’s a pause as Chrom inhales, breath ghosting across Robin’s bare arm. “How did he know?”

“I didn’t ask,” Robin murmurs. “I don’t think he knew then. I don’t think he knows now, either. Just recalling something from his time, perhaps. A distant memory, a feeling. It’s hard to say.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“You found out a few days later, anyway, as did Lucina. Though I suspect she had a feeling as well—she’s sharp, a fast learner.”

“She gets that from you.”

“I do believe Frederick mentioned your attention wandering during your lessons as a child…”

Chrom groans under his breath, mumbling something that suspiciously sounds like _‘traitor.’_

Robin’s grin grows a little wider. “Lissa said something similar as well—what was it you called your history tutor? A miserable, pegasus dung-smelling—”

She doesn’t get to finish as Chrom tackles her, pushing her backwards onto the bed. She’s laughing, however, cheeks red and hair freed from its usual ties. Chrom is grumbling under his breath despite his lips being pulled into a smile. He leans over her, resting his hands on either side of her waist.

“What was that, dear wife?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” she says airily. “I’ve already forgotten what we were talking about.”

“Good.”

There’s a moment of silence as they catch their breath and recover their thoughts; the predawn light is starting to grow brighter—a shift from inky gray to radiant gold. 

Robin pushes her bangs out of her face as she sighs. “Chrom.”

“Mm?” He’s taken to tracing patterns on one of her shoulders, where her nightgown had slipped down to expose the skin beneath it.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

His hand stills. Tilting his head, he meets her gaze. There are lines forming around the corners of her eyes; he knows they’re not all from robust laughter—a lot of them are from long, dark nights spent awake forming new tactics and finding new routes to take with the least number of casualties possible.

“I know,” he finally replies.

“If the nightmares are really starting to affect you I’d see Libra or Miriel. I know Miriel has been concocting a new, more effective sleeping draught recently.”

“And what are the side effects?” he asks. 

“Well…you may develop a craving for seed cakes and mutton pie.”

“That doesn’t sound _that_ bad.”

“And you may get a serious rash under your arms as well as an _awful_ cold.”

“Robin!”

She shifts her head to the side to hide her smile. “Alright, that was a lie. It’s completely safe—Vaike has been using it for a while now and he seems fine.”

Chrom snorts. “You mean he still has that inflated ego.” 

“Well, yes, that’s Vaike for you.” Robin’s smile turns sober as she reaches up, cupping his cheek. “I just want you to know I’m here for you.”

“I believe you said the same thing in our vows,” Chrom points out. 

“And I’m repeating it so it sticks. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise you that.”

He pulls her closer, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’m a woman of my word. Most of the time,” she adds, regret evident in the downward twist of her lips and slant of her eyebrows.

“Very reassuring. The Queen of Ylisse, famed tactician of the Shepherds, high deliverer—an overall good person who occasionally tells a lie for the greater good.”

 _“Chrom,”_ she snaps, but it lacks her usual bite.

“I’m teasing,” he says, giving her a tired grin. “I admit I was hurt—angry, too—at first. But I’ve moved past it. It was unfair of me to feel that way. You were right, of course. As you usually are.”

She says his name, more quietly this time, but he continues. 

“It was difficult, especially the days following after. It was a victory—the kingdoms were rejoicing! Oh, Robin, I wish you could’ve seen how the streets were flooded with people and light. I don’t even think our wedding had the capital that crowded.” 

“And I couldn’t tell the council,” he says. “How could I explain where you went when I didn’t even know myself? I’d never been more grateful for Frederick and Maribelle than those days following Grima’s defeat. Maribelle, especially—she was a sight to behold. I swear she could carry the halidom by herself.”

Chrom turns his head on the pillow, ignoring the strands of hair falling into his eyes. “I’m just glad you came back—that’s what I’m trying to get at and failing. You know I’m better with actions than words.”

He thinks, just for a second, that he sees tears in Robin’s eyes, but when he blinks the sight is gone and instead she’s cupping his face once more, inches away.

“I’m glad as well,” she whispers.

He kisses her then, just as the sun breaks over the horizon and golden light floods their room. Time slips away from them and soon enough Frederick is at their door, patiently reminding them that the day _isn’t_ going to wait for them to get up, royalty or not. 

As they’re heading out Chrom catches one of her hands, and she turns, expectant.

He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the warm, calloused palm and watches—enjoying the sight—as a flush rises to her cheeks. She doesn’t surprise him as she leans up and does the same, only to his cheek instead before ducking out.

The nightmares are a distant memory now; not gone, not completely, but no longer a shadow hanging over his thoughts. It’d be some more time before they were gone—and even then, they may linger, clinging to whatever doubts he carries—but knowing he has Robin, who’s as stable as a mountain, helps. He heads out, intent on seeing Miriel before the day truly begins and he’s swamped with his usual duties and unable to get away.

Ahead of him, he sees two familiar heads of blue hair, bent close to one another as they whisper. He finds himself calling their names, feeling something _lift_ inside him upon seeing them.

Two smiles greet him as they turn and two voices call out ‘father!’ at the same time.

Yes, the nightmares may stay—but there are plenty of good dreams to be had in return.

**Author's Note:**

> what is this? i don't know! it's corny in places and whatnot—i know that much. and it's all over the place. also kind of self-indulgent. i couldn't help myself. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> maybe one day i'll write something over 2,000 words.


End file.
